


Home for The Holidays

by Always_Bottom_Derek



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, Bottom Derek Hale, Collars, Come Eating, Cursed Derek Hale, Dark Dean Winchester, Dark Sam Winchester, Dark Sheriff Stilinski, I am a Crossover Multi-shipper, M/M, Male Lactation, Mentions of bestiality, Mild Coprophagia, Mindbroken Derek Hale, Piercings, Pure Filth - I Can't Get More Explicit, Sam has a Dog Cock, Self-Lubrication, Yeah you read that right, don't hate, implied wincest, mentions of scat, piss drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 18:52:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13301082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Always_Bottom_Derek/pseuds/Always_Bottom_Derek
Summary: John is home alone for Christmas Eve when Chris Argent calls asking for a favor.The Sheriff reluctantly agrees to help the hunter out, never in his wildest dreams imagining what would end up being dumped on his doorstep.John's Christmas just got a lot more interesting.





	Home for The Holidays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IcyCryos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyCryos/gifts).



> Haven't posted for awhile but that doesn't mean I've stopped generating debauched Derek content. I've been chat-porning these past months with some fellow "Bottom Derek" fans. Decided to clean these up and make them available to a wider audience. 
> 
> Originally done as a realtime chat the format of this fic follows this more or less. Abbreviated, hard, fast... 
> 
> Warning: As if the tags aren't enough, this is full of all sorts of nastiness!
> 
> For the record, I don't own all the kinks in these fics but I great pleasure in helping others realize their fantasies. This said, everything in these stories (and all my fics) is meant in good, filthy fun with no ill intentions directed towards anyone non-fictional.
> 
> This one was made as a late X-mas gift for my co-conspirator IcyCryos.

The scene  opens with John at home.

Alone.

It's Christmas Eve.

He's drinking. A glass of whiskey on the rocks held in his good hand, his other arm in a sling.

Stiles is away at College. Went on a ski trip with friends somewhere.

A cyclone on skis, his son didn’t say as much but John knows Stiles was really going to try and bag a girl he's interested in.

Either way, like the overly-responsible kid he is, at first he protested taking the trip.

He encouraged him to go. Wholeheartedly wants his boy to have the college experience.

But now he's all alone for Christmas Eve.

Just him and Jim Beam

Course he failed to tell Stiles he was laid up with an injury he got on the job. Sprained shoulder from a collision with the pavement during a chase.

So, Yup.

Shoulder aching like a bitch because he hates taking the pills the doctor prescribed, fake fire on the flat screen, scratchy vinyl on the player filling the air with songs that hold too many memories...

Not his ideal Christmas

In one corner a tiny x-mas tree with drooping branches seems to mirror how he's feeling. Melissa dropped it by as a peace/pity offering, since they were more off than on at the moment.

Yeah, it's a depressing picture.

Then John’s cell rings. Looking at the ID he sees it's Chris Argent. When he answers Argent sounds rushed, distracted.

Forgoing any niceties Chris asks if he can do him a favor.

John is reluctant, doesn’t want to get caught up in any more supernatural antics, he’s had enough to last him a lifetime.

But Argent quickly apologizes, tells him he knows a favor is a favor and it is Christmas… And what he’s asking will be a real stretch for the lawman...

But there's no one else he can trust with this.

Alright, now John's intrigued.

Intrigued, bored, melancholic. And it's not like his X-mas can suck much more.

He's cautious, especially since Chris is being so vague, but he hasn’t got anything else lined up.

He angles for more info.

All he can get out of Argent is that if he agrees he'll receive a delivery from two hunters. One he needs to keep it secured until Chris can pick it up from him later.

Argent is in the middle of a hunt and can't leave but this package is important. Things are complicated...

Eventually John agrees.

Chris sounds immensely relieved. Tells him he'll call his contacts give them the directions. They are on the road already, should be there in an hour.

An hour isn’t much of a wait. John's got time, nothing but. So, when he clicks off the phone he settles back in his chair. Pours himself another glass of liquid painkiller while he waits.

Sixty-five minutes later a car pulls into the drive.

John goes to the window when he hears it pull in.

A sleek black Impala sits in his driveway.

Two guys get out. One of them is huge, a real moose of a man. The pair pop the trunk and haul out this oversized, red velvet bag.

John's heart rate picks up. He can tell by the shape they've got a body.

He arches an eyebrow.

_This is some favor indeed._

The shorter of the two guys has a Santa hat on, a fake beard.  _Ho ho ho._ The makeshift Santa walks with a bowlegged swagger.

The guys come up the walk and John opens the door before they knock. But only after pulling out his revolver from the hall bureau and tucking it into the back of his jeans.

Cause safety first… You know.

The guys see him. Size him up. Immediately make him as a lawman. They kind of bicker with each other in a fraternal way about whether or not Chris would steer them wrong. Ask John if he's “cool.”

Very curious now against his better judgement he nods and invites them in.

Plus, he doesn't really want the neighbors to notice these body-bearing guys on his porch.

Despite the difference in their size it's the smaller guy carrying the bag. He comes in being a smart ass, talking about Santa's “special deliveries.”

John doesn't move a muscle at the jokes.

The taller one is more serious. Tells him they have something Argent asked them to find. Something the hunter has been, well, hunting for.

It’s outside their usual operations but they owed Chris a favor. A big one. He doesn't elaborate on why this is, only that they'd had to "go to hell and back" to get it.

John's taking in what the big guy says, keeping track of the other on the periphery.

The Santa dude has moved into the front room, right in front of the TV, and stands the bag up. Which, oddly jingles. It stays upright, which is hopeful, but there's no movement. He pulls the gold cord at the top and the bag opens and slides down, pooling on the ground.

The fabric falls away to reveal a man.

A naked man.

The first thing John notices is the bent felt reindeer antlers on the headband attached to the dark bowed head.

The second things is that the guy is ripped.

Body like a god. Hard abs, fat pecs, solid thighs. Hairless too, with the exception of his dark head and a small dark patch at his...

John's eyes bounce back up fast.

There's a big red bow tied around the guy’s neck.

Can't help it, John's eyes are pulled inexorably downwards again.

The fellow's nipples are pierced. The areolas, larger and darker than one might expect on a man, do something strange to John’s balls. The nips have obviously been trained, they're plump and slightly elongated. And, Jesus, but they have jingle bells hanging on them.

Which should be cheesy, but the glory that is the guy’s body somehow negates that.

This is turning out to be interesting.

Eyes dropping down further down, there's no way John can ignore the guy’s cock now. Or the huge, fat balls barely visible behind it.

The fellow’s monster dick is half hard. It's pierced too. Partially covered by the foreskin is a heavy ring that pulls it down.

The tip of the dude’s dick is wet. So much so, fluid gathers and drips from the ring.

It takes all John’s willpower to keep from licking his lips.

His gut is churning. _This is bad. Very bad._

Even worse that he finds the guy stunning; his cock now fighting with the fabric of his jeans.

A thankful distraction the tall guy clears his throat and introduces himself as Sam Winchester. Motions to "Santa" and says that's his brother, Dean.

Apologizes for the appearance of their "package" with a shrug and the offer of "hunter humor". This was intended for Argent, after all, and Chris would have appreciated Dean’s sense of kitsch.

Dean meanwhile has plopped himself down in John's chair. Prick has the audacity too to pick up his tumbler and down its contents.Then helps himself to another a finger of whiskey.

John's about to get after the guy when the "package" shifts just slightly.

The Sheriff’s gut twists as a little more of the bow tied fellow’s face becomes visible.

"Derek?"

There's no reply, but he moves closer and in seconds he has no doubt this is Derek Hale.

Derek who disappeared two years ago, about a month after Stiles left for college.

"So you know him?" Dean asks.

John nods but he can't find the words to answer.

He looks leaner, more ripped, beard scruffier. All the times Derek had shown up around town shirtless… John knows that those nipple studs are new. Yeah, it's Derek Hale. The one who dragged his kid into so much danger.

But even so, this not the broody, brash, bad boy he knew.

Derek seems smaller somehow though he’s pumped as shit. He’s staring down at the ground, eyes glassy, not complaining at all about how he’s being displayed.

Pink cheeks under his beard.

Those large, “fuck me” eyes aren’t focused, their surface glassy with what may be unshed tears.

John’s heart goes as tender as his dick is hard. It’s a new and uncomfortable feeling.

He calls Derek's name softly again. There's no response but a shiver of that fine flesh.

He steps up and takes that stubbled jaw in his hand. Derek doesn’t flinch but his body starts to tremble harder.

Despite the peculiarity of the situation, it’s the most amazing thing John's ever felt: to be so close to a naked, seemingly pliable Derek Hale.

See, the Sheriff had been more that a little _aware_ of the kid over the years.

He’d never admit it, but the first time he had Hale in the back of his squad car, handcuffed, he’d come in his pants. Jacked off for weeks to that image and all the possible scenarios arising from it.

Sure, this would have surprised most everyone, after all, he was known to be "straight as an arrow." 

Had dated girls all through the years, been married, and had that thing with Melissa after.

But that was only because, like a lot of guys of his generation, he didn’t openly acknowledge any of his homo feelings.

Nope, he did what thousands of hearty, small town fellows did: tamped all his gay longings down and donned his hetero-est trappings instead.

Now things had changed.

Claudia and Stiles were both gone, Melissa sidelined.

And looking down at the body in front of him, John had to admit, his attraction to Hale was certainly justified.

More so now he saw him stripped.

Yeah…  John had harbored a dark, secret lust for Derek Hale for a long time. Starting at an age some might have deemed inappropriate even. But the kid developed early... All those Alpha characteristics rushing to the fore as soon as he hit puberty.

When John lifts Derek's head finally, his gaze is met by stunned green eyes.

Anxious, and yep... tear-filled.

There's something terribly open and raw in that gaze. It turns his cock to iron and his balls to lead making them ache more than his heart. But like any good lawman would, he pushes this aside and turns to the the brothers. Demands to know what they’ve done to Derek.

Oh man, does he want to know what has Derek been through!

That the kid's not right is clear.

Sam raises his hands like "whoa, easy there!"

Tells John they fucking saved his ass is what they did. Thank you very much. And that's no small thing considering they usually "gank" werewolves first and ask questions later.

They would have killed Derek too, normally, but Argent had put a call out to all hunters when Derek had first disappeared, asking if they found him to spare his life and bring the wolf to him.

To expound on what they saved him from… Once again, when they said they'd "been to hell and back," they weren't kidding. Seems both Kate and Gerard had conspired with some demons before their respective demises.

It just took hell a little time to catch up. The place was hopping you see, backlogged these days with all the world’s evils.

So yeah... Once Derek's pack dispersed to college and all the various magic surrounding him had dissipated, he was open game.

The demons caught him and dragged him down to hell.

Certainly a trip, for sure...

Kept him there until the Winchesters stumbled on him.

“But that doesn't explain the new…” John gestures to Derek’s um…  modifications… “Don't demons just torture?” he asks.

Dean rolls his eyes at this ignorance, then he stands up and pulls on Derek’s bow.

It unravels to reveal a thick, dark leather collar.

“Their torture involves all kinds of shit.” He indicates the band on Derek’s neck and explains, “Haven't been able to get this off yet. So... we just have to work with it.”

What they've figured out is, that because of the collar the demons fitted on him as part of their torment, Derek can't be without a master.

Seems for last two years too, Derek was passed around from Demon to Demon... Owner to Owner.

Two earth years.

But in hell time stretches out.

Each demon that owned Derek, and they’ve guessed there were at least twenty, used him as they wanted.

Each demon, helped by the collar, also added an instruction: some alteration that's now more or less permanent.

John knows he should be disgusted by this but instead he finds himself growing impossibly harder.

Asks Dean do they know what all "alterations" Derek has undergone?

It's been a pain in the ass to figure it out and they don't have them all down, but yeah. They have a growing list.

“Well if you're going to leave him here I should well know what those are…”

So the brothers start talking.

First is that Derek can't really disobey whoever is his master. Not without experiencing some major "discomfort."

Second is that he can only eat filthy things.

“Oh?...”

“Yeah. If you feed him anything clean he'll just throw it up,” Sam says with a grimace. And goes on to say any bodily substance from his master is actually the most nutritive thing for Derek.

Cum, piss, shit...

And he needs it not just orally, his consumption. He has to be fed other ways too. And he doesn't just need it, he craves it.

And how is this list sounding to John so far?

Like its a recipe right from his darkest dream journal

Then Dean steps up and twists one of Derek's pierced nipples. White fluid drips out, runs down that smooth, sculpted chest.

That’s not something John's seen before.

Dean tells him, Derek might be a little morose since they pulled him away from his nursing litter.

“Doesn’t taste too bad” he smirks, catching some of Derek’s tit juice on a finger and licking it off. "Milk does a body good."

Yeah, so Derek needs to be milked a couple times a day at least right now. Since, yup, one of the Demons modified him to breed hellhounds.

“Werewolf hellhounds are gonna be even more of a bitch to deal with,” Dean mutters.

Oh, and speaking of, Derek responds better to "bitch" now than his original name. And with this little canine sidetrack of the bitch’s time in hell, Derek has also developed a hankering for some pretty sizable dick.

And often.

This is news for John, considering Derek was 100% a ladies man when he was at Beacon Hills. Another reason for him to have previously reined all his Hale hankerings in.

And imagine what he thinks next, hearing that, now, not  just because he thrives on cum for sustenance but Derek also needs cock because he's in a low grade heat all the time.

Dean gives Derek’s now hard cock a slap that fills the room, drowning out the last bars of “Walking in a Winter Wonderland” that’s been playing in the background.

“That's why his cock's dripping.”  

Dean goes on, grabbing that big piece of meat and flopping it around until Derek is softly whining, while he explains that the were-bitch’s mammoth cock is useless.

It gets hard but if he tries to penetrate anything it wilts right up.

And Derek can't cum from oral or manual stimulation.

Oh, that's sad… but in the dungeon of his soul John is enjoying this turn of events.

Yeah, Derek can only cum on a cock or a fist. But he only gets real relief of any kind if his master is the giver of these. By flesh or order it makes no difference.

There's other things. Ever the organized one, Sam has a list he'll leave.

But basic instructions given, Sam and Dean say they'll transfer Derek's ownership to John before they go, so he can be Derek's master until Argent gets there.

John's mind is reeling with the implications of this and the possibilities.

An upholder of the law, he knows everything about this situation is wrong, but he's also never been harder in his life.

Before they take off Dean can't help but ask if they can have one last fuck from the bitch. Sam blushes but nods in agreement. See, they've gotten used to "caring" for Derek now and getting off on him and in him every couple hours.

To be helpful, the brothers offer to do it there in front of John. Show him the ropes, so to speak.

Besides, among his modifications Derek is soothed by humiliation. Not enough to make it comfortable, But enough to take the edge off his torment for a bit.

John pretends to be uneasy as he slowly takes the chair back Dean vacated. Disapproving frown carefully pulled on as he settles back for the show.

Gives the Winchesters a nod. Pours himself another drink...

Dean unbuckles his jeans.

He's left his ass dirty and greasy for their bitch while they've been traveling. His butt smells like truckstop toilets, even John catches that right away. Derek starts to whimper in want though as soon as the unhindered scent hits his nose.

Boots off now, Dean kicks out of the denim completely. Spreads his legs, stance wide.

“You want that bitch, don't you. You need that treat, huh?

“Want it?”

He's talking to Derek like a dog but the werewolf's whole body is quivering and drool is gathering at the corner of Derek's mouth.

John can't believe what he's seeing. His hand goes to pull at the crotch of his jeans. His dick leaking like a teenager’s.

The moment Dean clicks his tongue and says "Come on girl!" Derek is on his knees, jingle bells tinkling. Face buried between Dean's cheeks.

Sam comes around to Dean's front. Pulls off his shirt, Dean's too. Starts kissing Dean deeply while his older brother is groaning at having his dirty hole so exquisitely eaten.

Sam reaches around and his huge hands grab Dean's ass cheeks and spreads them apart. From where he's sitting John can see how Derek's tongue is slurping up Dean's ass. Reaming out that filthy pucker as deep as it can get.

Derek's bitch clit is so hard and dripping, The Sheriff can see he's been enhanced there too. Harder still now, the useless thing reaches the floor from Derek's kneeling position Yeah, the ring scratches on the hardwood as it drags back and forth in time with the motion of Derek's rocking body.

And with the were-bitch on his knees, thighs spread wide, John can see his bare balls clearly for the first time. Heavy. So fat they look like they could burst.

Hard to imagine this guy used to be this macho Alpha male.

It's when he sees the knob of the plug in Derek's ass that John can't hold back. The thing has a little elf figurine on the end.

It looks like it's trying to pull the plug out. Tiny rubber feet planted on the sides of Derek's pulsing hole.

John has to pull the gun from the back of his jeans to truly settle back in his chair and free his cock.

He can't take it any longer.

He stares at that ass plug.

You've seen elf on a shelf… Well, it's the elf on the shelf of Derek's fat ass now.

He's so fucking turned on John barely has his hand on his cock when he comes.

Derek catches the scent immediately and pulls his tongue out of Dean's ass. He looks up at the brothers and back and forth between them and John, lowly whining in his throat. With a nod and a "go ahead, bitch," Derek scampers between John's legs.

John stiffens as Derek licks the sensitive head of his cock, suckles his stretched foreskin. Slurps at the cum dripping off his fingers.

Meanwhile, behind Derek... While he's doing this, Sam steps over and starts working the plug in his bitch ass.

Between John's thighs Derek is making the most amazing noises. Pushing back as he's plug fucked, while Sam works it out of him.

The thing is fucking huge.

A foot long. Tapered.

Equal inches in diameter at its widest point.

It’s amazing.

Sam pulling that monster plug out of Derek's cunt is the hottest thing John has ever seen.

Derek is now suckling his cockhead and the Sheriff is stunned to find he’s already getting hard again. But then Hale makes such a great image, mouth wrapped around his cock. The green eyes he's fantasized about for years looking right at him, hungry and filled with need.

Derek’s eyes are teary too, because even as well used and well trained as his hole is, it's painful getting that beast out of his ass. But the hellhounds were at least that big and his pussy gets anxious when its not stuffed.

Then, much to John's displeasure, Dean grabs Derek by the collar and hauls him off his cock without any warning. The older Winchester grabs Derek and shoves his face into his crotch, impaling his open mouth on his dick.

Dean's not small, but the wolf takes him easily as his mouth is thrust into.

Which is good because Dean and starts fucking him deep and fast, immediately.

John would complain, but the way Dean has hauled Derek around he can see the way the bitch's ass gapes from the plug. Derek is open so wide.

Of course with his werewolf powers his ass-pussy starts to shrink again pretty quick, but John admires the view while he can.

It’s such a gorgeous sight he doesn’t want to lose it.

Wet and pink and pulsing on the inside. That hole dripping even more than Derek's cock.

Unconsciously John makes a fist...

Sam's notices.

Nods to him.

“Want to fist fuck her?”

He starts at the offer. It’s been a fantasy of his for years...

Oh, yeah he wants to. He wants it so much.

But he'd rather do that in private. When he has Derek all to himself.

And he's praying that whatever hunt Chris is on lasts for weeks right now.

So he shakes his head.

Sam grins. “I'll show you something almost as good.”

He strips out of his shorts. Shows just why a plug that size was needed.

And John will be fucked if the big guy doesn't whip out a huge red dog cock. Or… Well, from the size of it, it really looks more like a horse cock.

Sam offers with a shrug that his dog dick is a side effect of long term demon's blood use. Then he tells John, "you'll like this.”

John can't wait to see just what he means.

The moment the hot pointed tip of that bloody-red dick touches Derek's rim the werewolf''s whole body trembles and his ass gushes with slick.

Dean crows with a shit-eating grin, still fucking Derek's mouth, "Self-lubricating!”

Clearly.

The way Derek is spilling slick John is definitely going to have to hire someone to rewax his floors...

But that’s later. Right now all he can think of is watching that raw-looking dick as it's fed into Derek's wet cunt.

Derek's back arches and he chokes on Dean's dick as Sam slides into him to his balls.

It’s more than John's wildest fantasy.

Seems like Derek is in pain from the stretch, but from the even more excessive precum he's leaking his body is clearly loving this too...

Prostate being crushed by the girth of it, Sam's milking Derek just by entering him.

John wants to rush upstairs for the video camera, but he knows he's got time to record everything for later. And he's too entranced to move, watching the werewolf's greedy ass clench as it literally sucks on that dick.

He doesn't know who to root for, Derek's ass-void or Sam's literal monster dick

Dean pulls out of Derek's gasping mouth. The werewolf all but howls as Sam slams into him.

Derek lowers chest to the floor in submission as Sam immediately starts jackrabbiting into him. Sam reaches around. Hauls him up on his knees, holds his torso upright.

John can see the outline of Sam's cock pulsing in Derek's rippled belly.

Sam squeezes Derek's pierced tits now and milk spurts until his chest is glistening with it in the light of the tv's fake flames.

Dean tells Derek to open his mouth. Grabs Derek's bangs and feeds his cock back into his gasping mouth.

“Wrong” is the word John knows his mind should be screaming, but all he can bring himself to think is “Hot.”

Dean groans, but not because he's coming.

The sharp tang of urine fills the air.

The werewolf’s collared throat works furiously as Dean empties his bladder into Derek’s mouth.

Piss runs down Derek's chin. His Adam's apple bobs frantically as he tries to drink it all down.

What he misses runs down his neck to mix with the milk his tits are leaking. They spurt new pearly drops with every thrust of Sam's cock.

Milk and piss and spit mix with the slick already all over John's floor.

Yeah, it's a mess.

As soon as Dean stops pissing he shoves his cock all the way back down Derek's throat. Then Derek starts whining around around Dean's dick.

John watches as Sam's dog cock is starting to pop its knot.

Sam's thrusts slow down and John's mesmerized.

Oh man… The way Derek's rim hangs on that growing bulge being pulled out. And then how it looks as Sam punches back in.

Eventually it looks like Derek's ass is at its limit. The rim red and puffed like real pussy lips. Stretched to almost tearing.

But Sam knows what the bitch can take.

John is both rooting for Sam's knot and wincing for Derek's abused asshole.

Sam bucks in hard. Derek screams around Dean's cock in agonized ecstasy as the knot finally pops into him.

John can see Sam's balls hitch. Derek's flat stomach swells with the sheer volume of cum being pumped into his guts.

It leaks out around his asshole.

Rock hard once more, John's refractory has never been so fast… He’s dripping anew, soaking the front of his jeans.

What he doesn't know yet is that this will happen even more as Derek's master. He’ll be endowed all the powers he needs to care for his “foster pet.”

Call it a perk.

Meanwhile, Dean shouts and comes down Derek's throat. Pulling out at the last minute to add his jizz to the mess of Derek's face.

Sam stays rocking, working his knot in that ruined ass.

He’s locked like that in Derek for at least 10 minutes. Long enough for Derek to regain his breath.

Enough to be maneuvered back around. Head shoved between John's thighs to take up his impending master's cock again.

This time John can really enjoy Derek's mouth.The bitch sucks him exquisitely, Derek driven back and forth on the dick in his throat by the cock still convulsing in his ass.

 _Fuck yes…_ That’s all John can think.

Sam says some words. The transference spell.

Tell's John he'll write them down before they leave so he can transfer Derek to Argent later.

Sam says too he’s glad John warmed to the situation so quickly, because truthfully the Sheriff needed to be in Derek somehow for the shift in ownership to take.

Then as soon as his knot deflates, Sam slaps Derek on the ass and tells him goodbye.

Yup. Pulls out leaving him a gaping, leaking mess.

John's cum again. Had done a bit before Sam made his exit. Had replaced his tender dick in Derek's ever-sucking mouth with his fingers too.

Derek nurses them, clearly exhausted, while the brothers pick up their empty “goodie” bag.

Sam leaves his notes.

The moment the door closes and the Winchesters are gone John can feel the spell really take. His ownership and the power of it floods him. Curls like a fat lazy cat in his gut.

Fuzzy and heavy and warm.

Derek must feel it too.

The were-bitch slides himself as deep between John's thighs as his broad-shouldered body can manage. He folds himself into ball.

Mouth still around John's fingers, arms clinging to John's calves he starts quietly sobbing.

Relief or torment John can't tell at the moment. Finds it only mildly alarming that he doesn’t really care either.

Derek’s tears are beautiful.

His cock twitches.

Looks like it’s going to be a Merry Christmas after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year? 
> 
> Better late than never I guess. 
> 
> If you liked this, subscribe to the series. I have at least a year of chats to edit post and I'm generating new content already.
> 
> Porn addiction never looked so pretty.


End file.
